


Professional Responsibility

by NothingSoDivine



Series: Strictly Professional [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Bisexuality, Dominant Roy Mustang, F/M, Feels, Kink Negotiation, Multiple Orgasms, Porn with Feelings, Safer Sex, Smut, Sort Of, Submissive Riza Hawkeye, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, WUZZLES!, a little bit, also gun safety, but at least we have all of this stuff, just like my fave, riza and roy are both bisexual switches, sorry no pegging today, still doesn’t get involved in anything tho, that’s right hayate is a character in this one too, there isn’t a tag for that apparently but I’m going to make it happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27385699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingSoDivine/pseuds/NothingSoDivine
Summary: After a mission goes poorly, Riza asks Colonel Mustang to help her relax.Sequel toProfessional Reasonsandits remix.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Series: Strictly Professional [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980829
Comments: 22
Kudos: 83





	Professional Responsibility

**Author's Note:**

> you could probably read this without having read the previous stories but if you want to have the right context you should read at least one of them

Riza hated when missions went worse than expected.

Some missions went perfectly according to plan, and that felt good. Following plans was a language Riza spoke. Sometimes there were hiccups, wrenches in the cogs, but more often than not they were able to fix them and finish the mission without much difficulty. When things went really wrong, Riza was left scrambling, and it was only by luck or grace that the mission was saved, if it was saved at all. More often than not, in cases like that, Riza found herself longing for Colonel Mustang’s help. Things so rarely went that badly when he was there, and even when they did, he took it in stride and kept on moving. When Mustang wasn’t there and things went wrong, they rattled her. This was one of those missions.

It took them until almost nine o’clock to get everything sorted out, and by then Riza was completely off-balance. Fuery drove her home, and she sat silently in the passenger seat, trying not to shake. He dropped her off outside her building at around quarter to ten, and she thanked him as calmly as she could and headed inside.

When she got upstairs, she stopped dead. Roy Mustang was leaning against the wall next to her apartment door in civilian clothes.

“Colonel Mustang,” she said, and he stood up.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye,” he replied. “Is everything alright?”

Riza just sighed and moved past him to unlock her apartment. “We can talk inside,” she said, struggling slightly with her keys. Her hands were shaking too badly to turn the key in the lock. She cursed under her breath and dropped her hands.

Mustang’s gloved fingers reached out, turned the key effortlessly. Riza opened the door wordlessly, retrieving her keys. Mustang followed her silently inside.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as soon as the door was shut behind them.

Riza sighed heavily, leaning against the wall. “The mission went poorly,” she said. “I’m sorry, sir. I forgot you were coming over.”

“It went that badly, hm?” Mustang joked gently, stripping off his gloves.

“Yes,” Riza replied honestly.

Mustang tucked his gloves into an inside pocket of his coat. “I see,” he said softly. “Would you like me to leave?”

“No,” she said. Still leaning on the wall, she raised one foot and started unlacing her boot. “You can stay. Hi, Hayate.”

Black Hayate yipped, wagging his tail at Riza until she petted him. Then he turned to Colonel Mustang, giving him a curious sniff. Mustang crouched down, offering Hayate his hand to investigate, then giving him a scratch on the head. “Hello again,” he murmured. “Yeah, you remember me, right? Oh, aren’t you a sweetie. Yes, hello.”

Riza toed off her other boot and pushed off the wall, moving past Mustang and Hayate and into her apartment. “I see you didn’t bring those flowers you mentioned,” she said, unfastening her jacket. “I don’t suppose you brought me chocolates, either?”

“Ah, no. Sorry,” Mustang said, and Riza turned back to him. He’d stood up, and there was something the approximate shape of a cardboard box in his coat pocket. She had a pretty good idea of what it was. “I— no, I’m sorry.”

“Come in,” Riza told him, sliding off her jacket. “Take your shoes off. Hang up your coat. Get comfortable. I said you could stay, I’m not going to kick you out in five minutes.”

“Ah — thanks,” he said, shrugging off his coat.

“So if you didn’t bring chocolates, what’s that in your pocket?” she asked, laying her jacket over the back of a dining chair and moving her hands to her shoulder holsters.

Mustang was hanging his coat up, so she couldn’t see his face, but she saw him tense briefly. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It’s not important.”

So she was right. She unholstered her first two pistols, ejected both magazines out onto the dining table. “I take it everything went smoothly on your end?” she asked, checking both guns for chambered rounds and reaching for the third.

“Yes, it did,” he replied, untying his shoes. “I’m sorry your end didn’t go as well.”

“It happens,” she said, leaving all three guns empty on the table and moving towards the kitchen. There were still a few chocolate chip cookies in the cookie jar, if she remembered correctly. She’d have loved a cup of herbal tea, but didn’t want to take the time to make one while Mustang was here.

“It does, but I’m still sorry,” Mustang said, leaving his shoes by the door and coming into the apartment as far as the dining table. He didn’t sit down.

Riza grabbed a cookie, offered the jar to Mustang. He declined. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “Again. It happens.”

“I know,” he murmured.

They stood there in silence for a moment while Riza leaned against the counter and ate her cookie. Then she brushed her fingers on her pants and straightened up.

“We both know why you’re here,” she said, and Mustang jumped a little.

“We don’t have to do anything,” he said hurriedly. “If you’re not in the mood for it, I can go—”

“What’s in your coat pocket, Colonel?” she interrupted him.

He gaped at her for a moment. “I, uh. Stopped at a drugstore on my way here,” he started.

Good enough. Riza strode past him. “Grab the condoms and let’s go,” she said, jerking her head towards the hall closet, and she heard Mustang make a startled noise behind her.

“Are you sure?” he asked, taking a couple steps after her. “You seem upset. I can go, I promise I won’t be offended.”

Riza stopped and looked down at her feet. Then she pointed firmly towards the hall closet where Mustang’s coat hung. “ _Please,_ ” she said.

“All right,” he murmured, and went where she pointed.

Riza didn’t wait for him. She headed straight for the bedroom. Hayate had curled up on the rug in the living room, but gave her no more than a curious look as she passed.

The air in Riza’s bedroom was cool and fresh when she opened the door; she left it open for Mustang to follow her and crossed the room. She had to sit down on the edge of the bed to take her socks off. Her hands were shaking again, she noticed as she stood back up to toss her dirty socks into the laundry hamper. She bounced a little on the balls of her bare feet, trying to burn off some of the nervous energy that was making her feel so untethered.

She was facing away from the bedroom door, but she heard when Mustang entered the room. “Shut the door,” she said, and he did.

Riza turned around. The orange glow of the streetlights outside cast the room in a familiar half-light. Wordlessly, she held out her hand for the condoms.

Mustang took three steps forward and handed her the box. She didn’t even look at it, just placed it on the bedside table next to her half-glass of water.

“You look very tense,” Mustang murmured, and Riza tensed even more.

“I’m fine,” she snapped. She had to do something with her arms to stop her hands from shaking; she crossed them tightly over her chest.

“The mission’s over,” Mustang reminded her gently, propping himself on the footboard. Riza remembered how eagerly he’d undressed at her command the last time they were here together, and she felt a pang of envy that she couldn’t fully explain.

“I know,” she said, too sharply.

“Hey, come on,” said Mustang, then cracked a smile. “At ease, Lieutenant,” he teased.

Riza knew he didn’t mean it seriously, but she planted her feet just past shoulder-width apart, lifted her chin, and crossed her hands at the small of her back.

Mustang stood up abruptly. “That’s not what I meant, Hawkeye,” he said, voice dark.

“I know, sir,” she replied evenly. The shaking in her hands was a little less, and the tightness in her shoulders that she hadn’t even really noticed was just a little easier. “I think... I think I need to be ordered around a bit,” she explained. “If you can do that. Sir.”

“Oh.” Mustang’s voice was still gentle, but less so. He didn’t sound quite so much like he was talking to a spooked animal. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Riza let out a breath. “Thank you, sir,” she said, staring straight ahead.

Mustang stepped towards her, curving around her and stopping behind her left shoulder. Even just his proximity was steadying her.

“Is there anything you don’t want me to do?” he asked quietly.

Riza licked her lips. “Please don’t make me use my mouth, sir,” she said. “At all.”

“Very well.” She couldn’t see his face, but she could hear that he was faintly disappointed, which frankly just proved her right. They were supposed to be keeping their relationship professional, after all; it would be too easy to move from mouths on bodies to mouths on mouths, and kissing was decidedly personal. “Anything else?”

Riza thought for a second. “No, sir,” she said. “I trust you to stop if I ask you to, sir.”

Mustang made a noise of acknowledgement. “Is there anything in particular you want?” he asked.

That gave Riza pause for a moment. She took stock of her shaky hands, her jittery legs and her frayed patience. “I want...” she said eventually. “I want to be pushed around, verbally and physically. I want you to be a little rough with me. And I want...” she remembered how helpless she’d felt on the mission, and felt her shoulders tighten. “I want you to make me useful to you,” she finished, then took a deep breath. “Does that make sense, sir?”

“I think so,” said Mustang. “You’re saying you want me to use you.”

A shiver ran down Riza’s spine, and she felt herself blush a deep red. “Yes, sir,” she managed.

Mustang hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t think I can be completely selfish about it,” he said, “but I can probably do that.”

Riza breathed evenly. “How do you mean, sir?”

Mustang huffed out an amused breath. “I mean I want to make you feel good, more than anything else,” he murmured, and Riza shivered. “But I think I can do that in a way that, as you said, makes you useful to me.”

The last man Riza had dated hadn’t known or cared what a clitoris was. She hadn’t slept with him; she’d broken up with him almost as soon as she’d found that out. The last (and first) man she’d slept with had been of a similar mind, and that had been before Ishval. She’d never been with a man who’d so much as properly considered her pleasure before, and here Colonel Mustang was talking about prioritizing it when she’d essentially asked him not to. She felt a swell of warmth all over — arousal, but also the dangerously potent affection she’d been trying so hard to ignore.

Then Mustang continued, “We’ll just have to see if making you come makes your pussy more decadent,” and all the warmth went rushing between her legs.

“I wouldn’t know, sir,” she managed, and Mustang went very still.

“... Have you not been with a man before?” he asked, voice all quiet surprise.

“No, I have, sir,” Riza explained. “I just haven’t been with one who knew or cared about my pleasure.”

If he could have, Riza got the distinct impression Mustang would have growled at that like a threatened beast. “Well,” he said, voice hard like steel, and Riza shivered again. Then his hands were on her wrists, pulling her arms firmly from behind her back to fold up uselessly on either side of her chest. She flexed slightly against his grip, just to test it, and Mustang stepped up behind her, using his leverage against the top half of her body to pull her flush against him. She could feel his hardening cock against her ass, his firm chest against her back. “You have now,” he purred, breath hot on her ear, and Riza shuddered.

“Yes, sir,” she gasped.

Mustang hummed. He sounded pleased. “I didn’t treat you especially well last time I was here,” he murmured. He sounded more factual than apologetic, but Riza had opened her mouth anyway to assure him that she didn’t mind, when he continued, “Not nearly so well as I’d have liked, at least.”

The nervous energy in Riza’s bones made her feel fragile and fluttery; it came out in waves of delicate shivers as Mustang breathed his beautiful insinuations into her ear. She wanted to drown in his voice. “Is that so, sir.”

“It is,” he purred, bringing her arms together so her wrists met in front of her chest. He shifted his grasp so they were both held in one hand; she could have broken that grip by accident. “You’re not going to try and fight me, are you?” he asked, pausing with the other hand still firm on her forearm.

Riza considered. “Not yet,” she decided.

“Good,” Mustang said, and reached for her belt.

Riza went still at that. Without any conscious effort, she felt her breathing smooth out. She wanted to lean back against Mustang, rest her head on his shoulder and rock her hips up towards his hand, but she resisted the urge. Mustang’s gorgeous fingers were sure as they unfastened her belt single-handedly; she couldn’t see them past her own arms, but she knew those hands.

“I’d have loved to do something like this then,” Mustang said as her belt parted under his determined fingertips, and Riza shivered yet again. “Get my hands on you, pay you back at least a little for the best orgasm I’d had in years.”

A thrill of pride and satisfaction went through her. “Years, hmm? Either you’re trying to flatter me, or you need to be having better sex,” she teased. He seemed to be struggling slightly with the buttons on her pants.

Mustang leaned in to get his mouth even closer to her ear. “Don’t sass me, Lieutenant,” he breathed, dark and dangerous, and Riza shuddered against him.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she gasped, and the buttons relented.

Mustang traced his fingertips across the front of Riza’s underwear. His touch was delicate enough to raise goosebumps down Riza’s legs. “You may be right, though,” he mused.

Riza tried to remember what she’d said. Mustang’s fingers were torturously gentle, and all she could focus on was how much she wanted him to move them lower. “Ah— about what, sir?”

“I need to be having better sex,” he said, tugging lightly at the little bow on the front of Riza’s underwear that she hadn’t yet bothered to pick off. “Ideally with you.”

“Oh,” was all Riza said.

“I’ve been thinking about getting my hands on you all month,” he confessed, and it was somehow the filthiest thing he could have said, though each individual word was perfectly innocent. His fingers finally met her skin, just the slightest bit of contact as he traced the waistband of her underwear, and Riza could not stop shivering. “I couldn’t stop wondering if you’d let me return the favour. I was so hoping you would, and I’d get the chance to make you feel even a little bit as good as you made me feel.”

“Stop,” Riza gasped, and Mustang went perfectly still.

“What do you need me to stop?” he asked immediately, voice switching flawlessly from sultry to serious.

Riza breathed deeply, feeling the calm of Mustang’s commanding presence start to settle into her. “You’re embarrassing me, sir,” she said.

“You want me to stop talking like that?”

Riza hesitated, then shook her head. “Just needed a moment, sir.” And to be sure she could stop him. She trusted him, but it was reassuring to test the boundaries, make sure they were secure. “I’m all right now.”

“Good,” said Mustang, and his fingers started moving again, tracing back and forth along where fabric gave way to skin. “I like getting you worked up,” he murmured, tone sliding back into sultry as his fingers teased downward over Riza’s underwear. “I want to make you lose all your composure, like you did to me. How long has it been?” he asked, and Riza had no idea what he meant until he continued, “Since you got fucked, I mean.”

“You mean by someone else?” she asked. “Uh. S— Seven years, sir.” She’d been getting a lot of use out of her dildo in the last month, though.

“Shit, really?” Mustang breathed, and she nodded. “When’s the last time you had sex?”

“Thirty-four days ago.”

Mustang chuckled against her ear. “You counted?”

She shook her head. “Easy math.”

“I did mean before that.”

Riza took a shaky breath. “Seven years.”

Mustang made an incredulous noise. “Seriously? Well, don’t I feel like a drama queen for complaining after only a couple of months,” he joked.

Riza swallowed hard. “Different people have different... needs, sir,” she managed. There was something very attractive to her about the fact that Mustang had so much more sex than she did. Her imagination helpfully reminded her of his reputation for promiscuity, and how easily he’d taken first her fingers, and then her cock, and she felt a rush of arousal as she pictured him surrounded by naked, beautiful bodies — touching them, kissing them, fucking and being fucked by them. “No shame in that,” she said, and her voice was deep with desire.

“I suppose not,” Mustang murmured, and his mouth was right next to her ear again, sending shivers down her spine. Then his fingers dipped under the waistband of her underwear.

Riza sighed shakily, trying to keep her hips still. She hadn’t asked him to tease her like this; she knew if she asked for something, verbally or physically, he’d give it to her, but she wanted him to keep teasing her as long as he wanted. She would not beg until she absolutely needed to.

“Desperately turned on is a good look on you,” Mustang commented. She could feel his eyes on her face. His fingers were maddening, just petting gently without moving low enough to properly touch anything.

“ _Desperately_ is a strong word, sir,” she retorted. “I don’t think I’m there yet.”

“No? Well, if this isn’t desperation, I’m excited to find out what is,” he quipped, and slid his hand lower.

Riza sighed appreciatively, hips rocking automatically into the touch. Mustang was just pressing his hand against her, but it felt good, almost soothing. “And who says you’ll get to find out? Sir,” she added, just a little teasingly, since she was sassing him already.

Mustang had relaxed his grip on her so they weren’t pressed so tightly together, but at that, he tugged her closer again, pressing into her pubic bone with the heel of his hand so her ass pushed firmly against his cock. “Me,” he growled, breath swirling hot around her ear, and she bit her lip on a noise. It came out as a faint whimper.

Mustang’s mouth was close enough to Riza’s ear that she felt him grin. “Is that clear, Lieutenant?” he purred.

“Yes, sir,” Riza gasped.

“Good,” he replied, and slipped one finger between her folds.

Riza caught her breath, but Mustang groaned next to her ear, and she shuddered. “Fuck, you’re drenched,” he breathed, parting her lips with two fingers, and Riza felt her underwear go from damp to soaked in an instant.

“Yes, sir,” she breathed automatically. She hadn’t really been able to feel it clearly until he touched her, but she really was drenched. Mustang’s fingers slid so easily over her wet skin, gliding past her entrance and towards her clit. Fuck, she could barely even remember the last time someone else’s hand had been there. It hadn’t been a man’s, she remembered that part clearly. That felt significant, but she was too distracted to decide why. Then Mustang’s fingertips circled her clit once, twice, and Riza wanted him to touch her like that forever.

“I suppose I should establish a control condition,” Mustang mused, frustratingly nonchalant. His fingertips were pressing on either side of Riza’s clit, squeezing gently as he traced lazy circles.

“What?”

“For the experiment. If I want to know whether coming makes your pussy more decadent, I need to know what it’s like beforehand, don’t you think?” he explained, sliding his fingers back down to tease Riza’s pussy, dipping ever so shallowly in as he rubbed his fingertips across it.

“Yes,” Riza gasped, only half in response to his words. She needed those fingers in her. Her pussy was achingly empty; she wanted so badly for Mustang to fill it.

“Yes, what?” he murmured.

“Please, sir,” broke from her mouth, and Mustang hummed, pleased, and slid both fingers into her.

Riza made a startled noise, squeezing around Mustang’s fingers. He pumped them slowly, and Riza savoured the way they dragged in and out of her, the gratifying fullness. “Fuck,” she heard, and it took her a second to realize it was Mustang who’d said it. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy fucking this gorgeous cunt.”

Riza shuddered as the obscene language made it through the hazy pleasure and into her brain. Fuck, she’d never heard that word spoken in such an obviously complimentary tone before, and it sounded _good_. “Yeah, I thought you might like that,” Mustang continued. “You like when I talk about how much I want you, hm?”

Riza’s mouth was busy gasping at every thrust of Mustang’s fingers; she could only nod in reply.

“God, that’s pretty,” he breathed. “I could do this for hours, if it meant you’d make faces like that for me.”

“ _Hnnnn,_ ” said Riza.

“But not tonight,” Mustang said, and pulled his fingers out of her. Riza gasped at the loss, but then he pressed against her clit again, and she found she didn’t have any reason to complain. “Tonight I have something else in mind.”

“Mmh,” Riza sighed, “oh, can you — part your fingers a little, like — oh, yes, like that,” and Mustang pressed his face into her hair and hummed with satisfaction as Riza shivered against him.

“Good?” he purred.

“So good,” she gasped. It had felt incredible to have his fingers in her, but the steady, purposeful circling of those fingertips on her clit was better, in a way — it wound her tighter, made the pooled arousal twist and spiral.

“I want to make you come like this,” Mustang told her, “so you just tell me what you need so I can make that happen, all right?”

“Yes, sir,” Riza managed. “Just keep d— doing that for now.”

“Mm, gladly,” Mustang murmured. “You sound so gorgeous.”

“Mm— _ahn,_ ” she replied eloquently.

“Fuck,” Mustang breathed, full of feeling, and then fell silent.

In the quiet that followed, Riza’s breath sounded too loud and too harsh. She tried to focus on Mustang’s instead, quiet and deliberate next to her ear, but it wasn’t enough to block out her own, or the lewd, wet noises of his fingers, even muffled as they were through her clothes. Riza swallowed and took enough of a breath to speak.

“Could you...” she started.

“What do you need?” Mustang asked gently, and Riza felt affection sink its teeth into her heart again.

“Keep talking,” she pleaded.

Mustang huffed out an amused breath, hot against her ear. “My apologies, Lieutenant,” he said. His voice was like wine, rich and intoxicating. “I’m starting to run out of things it’s safe to say.”

“I need you to talk,” Riza said. “Please.”

“All right, all right,” Mustang relented, then took what was clearly a nervous breath. “Just... don’t hold it against me if I say something irresponsible.”

“I won’t,” Riza promised.

Mustang released the breath in a long, steady exhale. “Now I’m nervous,” he teased.

“No _nnnn_ need,” Riza countered, hips thrusting once towards Mustang’s fingers. “Nobody here but me, s— sir.”

“But you’re the one I’m nervous about,” Mustang breathed. “I don’t want to scare you off.”

“I’m not that easy to spook, sir,” Riza assured him. “I think to scare me off you’d have to actually try.”

Mustang took another deep breath. “You sound incredible like this,” he murmured, and Riza let her eyes flutter shut as she savoured his voice. “I want to hear you like this whenever I want, I — I want to press you against my office door and finger you like this until you come, I want to bend you over my desk and tease you with my cock, I want to pin you against the wall and ki— fuck,” he said, and then suddenly he wasn’t speaking Amestrian.

It took Riza a moment to figure out what had happened, but she was admittedly distracted. Mustang never stopped moving his fingers as half of his words went rich and bubbly like molasses candy. It sounded like Aerugonian; if Riza had been concentrating, she could’ve picked out maybe a handful of words. She let them wash over her instead, although she didn’t really have much of a choice.

Mustang’s accent was flawless, but his Aerugonian was clumsy and uncertain, and he kept switching back. The familiar words and phrases caught in Riza’s ears as she heard them — she recognized _bella,_ but also _wouldn’t believe how much_ and _so desperately_ and _absolutely incredible,_ interspersed with the language she didn’t understand. Curiosity pricked up its ears, but it didn’t really matter what he was saying; the words sounded gorgeous and his voice sounded desperate and his fingers were still winding Riza closer.

“Little bit faster,” she gasped, and he obliged. Riza could hear herself moaning, but more importantly, she could hear Mustang muttering beautiful nonsense into her ear. With a choked-off cry, she tensed up in Mustang’s arms and came.

When she could focus again, Riza found herself leaning heavily against Mustang. He’d stilled his fingers, but they were still against her clit, and his arms were around her. She hadn’t felt so comfortably surrounded in a long time.

“ _Fuck,_ ” said Mustang, and moved his fingers.

Riza gasped, her whole body spasming. Fuck, she was sensitive.

“You all right?” Mustang asked as she sagged back against him.

Riza made a weak noise and let her head fall back to rest on Mustang’s shoulder. “Yeah,” she said, and her voice was far more breathy than usual, but Mustang really didn’t seem to mind.

“Fuck,” he said again, and rubbed his fingertips across Riza’s clit.

She shuddered hard. “Colonel Mustang, sir,” she managed. Even to her own ears, it sounded utterly filthy in the tone her voice was in.

“Yes, Lieutenant,” Mustang breathed. He sounded faintly distracted. His fingers were so slow and so gentle on her clit that the touch didn’t hurt at all, but it still made Riza’s whole body jerk erratically like a marionette with the strings all tangled.

“I, _ah_.” Her hands flew to Mustang’s hips, effortlessly breaking the grip she’d forgotten he had on her wrists. He didn’t seem to mind, just placed his hand firmly against the base of her sternum instead. “I believe you wanted to — _ngh_ — test something.”

“That’s right, I did,” Mustang purred, suddenly far less distracted. “May I?”

“Whatever you want, sir,” she said, and Mustang hummed and pressed his fingers into her again.

Riza cried out, hands tightening reflexively on Mustang’s hips. “Oh, fuck me that’s delicious,” Mustang cursed, pumping his fingers once, slowly, as Riza whimpered. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, fuck, yes,” Riza assured him in three separate breaths. “Oh god. Fuck. Talk to me,” she begged. “Tell me what’s — changed.”

“Fucking _everything,_ ” Mustang said, and it sounded so reverent. “You’re tighter, you’re hotter, I think you’re fucking _wetter_ somehow. And you still took my fingers so damn easily. God, are you even gonna be able to take my cock if I make you come again?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Riza hissed. Short of an actual crisis, she was not going to let Mustang leave tonight without fucking her.

“Then why don’t I get started,” Mustang replied, sliding his fingers back out of her to circle her clit.

Riza sighed. At the first touch of Mustang’s fingers, most of her body jerked, but as he went on, her reaction settled down to a shudder, then a shiver. That familiar tension was building again, faster than before.

“Second one’s always easiest,” she breathed, head tilted to the side so she was practically brushing his ear with her lips.

“Is it, now,” he murmured. “I’ll have to remember that.”

“Mmm,” Riza replied. Mustang’s cock was rock-hard and nestled against her ass in a way that Riza thought was maybe the best thing ever. She was still hazy and blissed out from her first orgasm, and Mustang was steady and comforting against her back, and his fingers were making absolute magic against her clit. She’d known, in the abstract, distant sort of way she knew many such things, that there were men like him in the world, men who respected and understood and cared about women’s pleasure, but she’d never dared to even wonder whether Colonel Mustang might be one of them. But now here he was, working her gently but with dizzying efficiency towards a second orgasm.

“That feels so good,” she crooned, and felt Mustang’s chest rumble faintly with his answering groan. “Keep going, just like that — oh, oh, _yes,_ ” and then she was shaking apart in his arms again.

When her ears stopped ringing, she heard Mustang ask, “Think you can go for one more, or—?”

Riza shook her head. “Need you,” she huffed.

Mustang tightened his arms around her, just briefly. “All right,” he said, gently extracting his hand from Riza’s underwear and making her wince. Then his clean hand reached for the bottom of Riza’s turtleneck.

Riza clamped a hand around his wrist, stopping him dead before she’d fully processed what he was aiming for. She felt too safe like this, too comfortable. She wasn’t going to damage that comfort by exposing her back. “The shirt stays,” she said, and her voice was surprisingly firm. “Give me a minute.”

“All right,” Mustang said again, and when Riza released his hand, he placed it safely on her hip. He waited while she caught her breath, patient despite how hard his cock still was against Riza’s ass. Once her breathing evened out, she pulled away from him, standing on shaky legs. With one hand, she reached up the back of her shirt towards her bra, trying to avoid touching the scar tissue under it. It needed more care than she’d been giving it lately, and she didn’t like to be reminded that she was neglecting it. The clasp of her bra parted easily under her practiced fingers, and she extracted the whole thing expertly from under her shirt, then tossed it over one bedpost.

“That might just be the most impressive skill I’ve seen from you yet,” Mustang teased. “You never cease to amaze.”

Riza waved a hand at him. “That’s a standard skill for anyone who wears a bra regularly,” she countered. “It’s not special.”

“Well, I’m still impressed,” Mustang retorted, then hooked two fingers into the waistband of Riza’s trousers. “May I?” he asked, suddenly all sensual again.

“Yes sir,” Riza said, and Mustang stripped her pants and underwear down her legs in one smooth movement. She stepped out of them, goosebumps rising all across her newly bared skin, and he tossed them aside and rose back to his full height.

“Get on the bed,” Mustang ordered, and Riza shivered and obeyed.

“On your hands and knees, ass in the air,” he continued, and Riza moved into position. The air was cold against her wet skin; she shivered again.

“You look good like that,” Mustang purred. Riza could see him stripping his clothes off out of the corner of her eye. “I can tell it’s not a position you’re in very often, though. Your back’s all stiff.”

“Yours was the same, until I got my fingers in you,” Riza pointed out, looking back down at the bed. He didn’t need to know her back was bothering her. She let the implications hang in the air — _and you’re clearly in this position a lot._ Someday she might have the guts to tease Mustang for that, but she wasn’t brave enough yet.

“Well then, maybe once I get my cock in you, you’ll loosen up,” Mustang mused, and Riza heard the sound of a cardboard box being opened. Her pussy ached with anticipation.

“We’ll see,” she said, and Colonel Mustang climbed onto the bed with her.

“You do look gorgeous like this,” he said, settling on his knees and sitting back on his heels behind her. He ran one finger across her pussy, teasing over her clit, and she gasped. “You’re so wet for me, and I love that you’re showing it off.”

Riza dropped down to her elbows so she could bury her face in her arms, and felt her hips tilt automatically towards Mustang. His fingers felt incredible, even when they were this gentle. “Yes, sir,” she said, because she had to say something.

Mustang hummed and pressed his fingertips against Riza’s clit. “Gorgeous,” he said again, then went quiet, and Riza heard the faint sound of tearing foil. It took her a moment to parse that his fingers were still toying with her clit, and another moment after that to wonder how he was managing with only one hand. She turned to look over her shoulder, and couldn’t stop a startled laugh.

Mustang narrowed his eyes and raised an eyebrow at her. “What?” he asked through the condom wrapper clenched in his teeth. “It’s called multitasking.”

“Is it,” Riza chuckled, then Mustang spat out the wrapper onto the floor and moved to roll the condom down over his cock, and she caught her breath.

“See anything you like?” Mustang purred, and Riza let her eyes roam up his bare chest, then back down to his cock. It looked perfect, thick enough to fill her up nicely but not thick enough that she’d struggle to take it. She clenched involuntarily, shivered as Mustang’s fingers made pleasure spike through her.

“Yes, sir,” she said, voice rich with desire, and felt herself blush. She turned quickly away so Mustang wouldn’t see it, burying her face back in her arms. God, she was half-naked and about to get fucked by him, and suddenly she was behaving like a pre-teen with a crush? Ridiculous.

“And what might that be?” Mustang asked, and Riza heard him moving before she felt the head of his cock nudge up against her pussy. She gasped, arching her back automatically to press back against him, and felt her scars pull tight but she didn’t care. Mustang stopped her with a hand on her hip, and Riza shivered. “Come on, answer the question.”

“Question?” Had he asked something? He had, hadn’t he?

“What do you want?” Mustang murmured, dragging the head of his cock across her entrance, and Riza made a desperate little noise.

“Your cock,” she gasped. “Give it to me, _please._ ”

“Give it to you?” Mustang asked, all mock-innocent. “How do you mean?”

Bastard. “Fuck me,” Riza swore, trying to rock back again despite Mustang’s grip on her.

“I beg your pardon?” Mustang said mildly, and Riza cleared her head enough to think over what she’d said.

“Fuck me, sir,” she begged, and Mustang swore quietly under his breath.

“There we go,” he said, and pressed the head of his cock into her.

Riza gasped, but Mustang groaned like he had when he’d gotten Riza’s whole cock in his ass, and Riza clenched around him. Fuck, she’d been right about his cock — it sank into her so sweetly, so _easily,_ and stretched her out so perfectly. He slipped in a little further, and Riza was struck by how _right_ he felt sliding into her. She realized she was making noises, and tried to swallow them.

“Don’t you fucking dare keep yourself quiet,” Mustang hissed, and then his hips struck her ass and he was as deep inside her as he could get, and Riza heard herself moan.

“Yes, sir,” she gasped.

The first thrust made Riza’s head spin. The second made her whimper, and the third made Mustang swear again behind her, and then she lost count. Every impact of Mustang’s hips knocked the breath out of her, and for the first time in a very long time, Riza remembered why she used to think sex was worth having.

 _Melodramatic,_ she chided herself, but it was true. It was one thing to feel so deliciously full, but quite another to feel... wanted, she supposed, desired, but neither of those words felt quite sufficient. Then Mustang thrust into her a little harder, and Riza gasped, and “Ohfuckyes harder, _please,_ ” came spilling out of her mouth.

Mustang moaned appreciatively. “Please what?” he gasped.

 _Oh my god you bastard,_ Riza thought, but she was reveling in it. “Please, _sir,_ fuck me harder,” she begged, and she was fully prepared to get self-conscious if he didn’t, but he just hissed “ _Fuck_ ” and adjusted his grip on her hips so he could pound her harder.

Riza cried out, grasping desperately at the bedspread. “Fuck,” she gasped. God, it felt so much better with Mustang manhandling her, tugging her back to meet every thrust. “Fuck, yes, that feels so good, fuck, thank you sir.”

“Oh my god,” Mustang breathed, and then one of his hands left Riza’s hip and he was pressing two fingertips against her clit and she keened, rocking back against his touch. “Oh my god,” he said again, frustrated this time, “fuck this angle, come here,” and then he was wrapping his arm around Riza just under her breasts and hauling her bodily upright into his lap.

Riza gasped. Mustang was against her back again, and her legs were spread around his, and his fingers were on her clit and his cock was so deep in her. He thrust up into her, and Riza moaned. The change in angle made everything richer, more intense. He couldn’t pound into her like this, but every movement was amplified by how tightly they were pressed together, and he had his arm wrapped around her and his fingers rubbing at her clit.

 _Cherished_ , her mind chimed in out of nowhere, and Riza felt affection gnaw at her heart again. Then Mustang buried his face in the side of her head, just behind her ear, and muttered, “Fuck, you feel so fucking good, I can’t believe you’re letting me do this, you’re so fucking gorgeous,” and Riza came so hard she forgot how to breathe. Mustang gasped out a startled noise into her hair and followed, shuddering.

“Fuck,” he said eventually, and Riza made a noise of agreement. They were still nestled together — cuddling, she would have said, except they were still upright and besides she absolutely was _not_ cuddling with her commanding officer — and the contact was very warm and very nice.

Then Mustang roused himself, and moved his hands to Riza’s thighs. “Sorry, Lieutenant, but could you—”

“Hmm,” said Riza, and tumbled gracefully forward.

“Lieutenant,” Mustang said, and there was laughter in his voice. “Are you all right?”

Riza turned her head so her face was out of the blankets. “Yeah,” she replied. Aftershocks were running through her whole body, and she felt hazy and blissful. “I’m doing great.”

“It certainly sounds like it,” Mustang commented, running a hand up the back of her thigh, and she shivered. “Mind if I go shower?”

“Help yourself,” she sighed, waving a hand in the general direction of the bathroom, and Mustang made a noise like he’d thought of an excellent joke but didn’t think he should share it.

“Thank you,” he said instead, then climbed off the bed, dropped the used condom in the bin next to the bedside table, and left the room. He didn’t close the door; Riza heard him greet Hayate on his way through the living room, then heard the bathroom door open and close and the shower start running.

Riza sighed again, closing her eyes and melting into the bed. Her pussy ached faintly, and she could feel soreness starting to creep into her hips and back. She hadn’t felt this good in ages. She lay there quietly for a while, catching her breath and taking stock of her whole body. She’d lost so much tension, and the nervousness from earlier in the evening had vanished without a trace. She felt used, she realized contentedly. Mustang had taken what she’d asked for and done it better than she could have possibly hoped for.

“Colonel Mustang, you have ruined me for every other man in the world,” she muttered to herself.

“I’d apologize, but I find I’m rather not sorry,” Mustang replied from the doorway, and Riza’s eyes flew open. He had a towel around his waist and water sprinkled across his collarbones, and he was smirking. She could just about have gone for round two right then. “Provided you’re willing to keep doing this sort of thing with me.”

“I think ‘willing’ applies here, certainly,” Riza replied, rising onto her elbows.

Mustang’s eyes drifted down Riza’s body, and his mouth fell open, exposing the briefest flash of his tongue before he sucked his lower lip firmly between his teeth. “Close your legs, Lieutenant,” he ordered. “I can’t afford to be here all night.”

Riza closed her legs and rolled onto her side to face him. “Shame,” she said, as blithely as she could, but her heart was suddenly pounding.

“Indeed,” Mustang said, and Riza felt her pulse return to something like normal. “We should do this again sometime,” he continued, and Riza watched his face. He looked nervous, but when he met her eyes, his expression turned hopeful.

Riza smiled. “Indeed,” she echoed. “I believe it’s your turn to get pounded until you can barely walk?”

Mustang leaned heavily against the doorframe. “Oh, are we taking turns?” he asked mildly, but Riza had seen the heat flare in his eyes.

“We don’t have to,” she said, sitting up and stretching her arms over her head. Her shirt rode up over her stomach, and she felt Mustang’s eyes track it. “But it seems only fair.”

“Well, I’m game if you are,” Mustang replied.

Riza scooted forward so she could sit on the edge of the bed. “Excellent. Are you busy Saturday afternoon?”

“Not yet.” The heat was back in Mustang’s eyes. Riza wanted to spread her legs again, invite him back between them.

“Then let’s do Saturday,” she said, standing up and moving past Mustang towards the bathroom. She glanced at the clock. “A little earlier in the day, though.”

“Sounds good,” Mustang said, and then Riza shut the bathroom door behind her.

When Riza emerged from the bathroom again, her hair loose around her shoulders, Mustang was fully clothed and sitting on the living room floor while Black Hayate gave him an enthusiastic faceful of kisses. Mustang was laughing and sputtering, trying to push Hayate’s face away while petting him at the same time, and Riza watched for a moment, smiling. Affection swelled up in her again, warm and soft like the way Mustang’s arms felt around her. She roused herself reluctantly.

“Colonel Mustang,” she said, and he looked up.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye,” he replied, finally succeeding in pushing Hayate off so he could stand up.

Riza was suddenly very aware that all she was wearing was a short-sleeved black turtleneck. “I’m sorry I can’t let you stay longer,” she said. “You and Hayate get along so well.”

Mustang finished wiping his face with his sleeve. “Well, I’ll see him in less than a week,” he pointed out. “I’m sure we’ll both survive until Saturday.”

“That’s true,” Riza agreed, smiling slightly, as Mustang headed towards the door. She fetched his coat for him while he tied his shoes, and handed it to him when he was done.

“I’ll see you Saturday,” she said, opening the door for him. She stayed behind the door as it opened, out of sight. “Let’s say three o’clock?” A good, neutral time, between meals so she wouldn’t have to fret about having to feed him. Sharing a meal in the mess hall was one thing, but sharing a meal that Riza cooked for him in her apartment before or after sex was far too personal for comfort.

“Three o’clock works for me,” Mustang agreed on his way past. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“Oh, and Colonel Mustang,” Riza added, peering around the door, before he could walk away, and he turned back to her.

“Yes?”

She met his eyes. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“It was truly my pleasure, Lieutenant,” he replied.

**Author's Note:**

> I won’t be doing a roymix for this one, at least not right away, so next up is the Saturday meeting. which means more pegging, yay.
> 
> also let me know if I missed any weirdly placed spaces, the translation from docs to AO3 always messes up my formatting


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